


I only see what I'm looking through

by cassakleia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mental Institutions, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassakleia/pseuds/cassakleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has to volunteer at a mental hospital, and his favorite patient is Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I only see what I'm looking through

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing a lot for classes, and I needed a break. So to take a break from writing I... wrote a story.
> 
> I loved writing this, and someday I want to write some sort of overhaul where it's longer and explanations happen and Stiles and Derek actually get together.
> 
> Since this was my break story, I did very minimal research. If there are any glaring inconsistencies, please let me know. If it doesn't ruin the story, I'll try to change it.
> 
> The title is from "Window" by Fiona Apple. The lines in the fic are from "Over" by Farewell Flight.

“What movie did you watch yesterday?” Derek asks as he sets down the meal tray on Stiles' little table. Stiles is his last stop, so he has more time to linger and talk. Stiles frowns at the question, and taps his fingers against the windowsill. The chair's been pushed so close to the window that Stiles could use it as an armrest if he wanted. In the past couple months of volunteering, Derek has learned that Stiles only does this on bad days.

“...don't know.”

Derek sits on the edge of Stiles' bed.

“That's unusual for you.”

Stiles shakes his head. He taps his fingers faster, harder.

“I didn't like it. It was about learning the difference between real and fake.”

Derek waits. One of the things he likes about Stiles is that he can be very passive in conversations. Stiles will elaborate on his own, without Derek having to ask anything.

“I like movies where people are accepted for being themselves. Not where other people force them to change.”

It's easy to see the parallels between those movies and Stiles' life. Derek knows Stiles would rather be accepted than stay here. And he knows what answer a volunteer is supposed to give.

“Sometimes, people see things in a way that interferes with their lives. So they need to see things more normally.”

Stiles stops looking at Derek. Instead, he looks out of the window. Derek doesn't know what he looks at. He's never asked. But Derek has looked out of the window when Stiles isn't in his room, and Derek knows that the only thing Stiles can see is a small strip of grass and the brick wall of the building next to them. The glass is so thick that the colors are distorted.

“I know how you feel about it. But you asked.”

Technically, Derek didn't ask. But even in the beginning, Stiles had a good gauge of what Derek actually wanted details on versus what Derek couldn't care less about.

Derek knows that the conversation is over. Stiles gazes intently out of the window, not even glancing back at Derek. His fingers are still tapping, but now even the rest of his body seems like it's vibrating with unspent energy. If Derek could see his reflection, he'd guess that Stiles has a hurt expression, or maybe indignant. Stiles used to always argue with Derek about his condition, but lately he holds back.

Derek stands up and scans his badge to leave the room. He closes the door quietly behind him, but the automatic lock clicks loudly.

-.-- --- ..- / -. . ...- . .-. / ... . . / - .... .. -. --. ... / -- -.-- / .-- .- -.--

Derek hates visitor day. People can actually visit anytime and are encouraged to. But once a month there's a day where patients can spend the entire day with visitors. Visitors who constantly ask Derek where the room they're looking for is (even though the rooms are easy to find here), or where the bathroom is (most likely right behind you), or they ask Derek how their son has been doing (sorry, no, he doesn't personally know your “little David”).

In his second-to-last room to deliver a meal to, the kid's parents are visiting and they ask him all sorts of questions. Unfortunately for them, Derek doesn't know anything about what medication the kid is on (volunteers don't get to handle the meds, especially the court ordered volunteers), or the nutritional value of the food, or why exactly their daughter got stuck in a high security room where she can't leave freely. The parents seem very upset, so Derek leaves before he gets stuck listening to them complain.

Stiles' room is next. Derek expects the guy with the weird jaw to be visiting, but there's no one in the room with Stiles. Stiles glances up at Derek, acknowledging him. The motion is sluggish and Stiles has pushed his chair flush against the wall today.

“Scott couldn't come,” Stiles explains. “He forgot and made plans with his new girlfriend.”

Derek sets the meal tray by Stiles' feet this time. He doubts Stiles is getting up anytime soon. Derek doesn't bother standing back up, just plops down on the floor next to the food. Stiles frowns, bemused by the action, but carries on without mentioning it.

“I told him it was okay.”

“But it's not.”

“No,” Stiles' gaze is piercing. “It's not.”

Derek's not sure what to say to that. Stiles has never had any other visitors besides Scott, not since Derek started working. Stiles told him that his dad used to come visit, but he had to stop coming because all Stiles talked about was how trapped he felt; how much he wished he could leave. Stiles keeps staring, and Derek wants to look away. Then he would lose, though, so he doesn't.

“Derek,” Stiles finally speaks, in a near-whisper, “why don't you ever let your wolf out from under your skin?”

Stiles always seems perfectly normal. Derek has trouble remembering there's a reason Stiles is here. And then Stiles says something crazy to remind him. Derek balls his hands into fists and Stiles hisses and cringes. For a split second, Derek thinks that Stiles expects to get hit, but Stiles doesn't look afraid. Derek decides he doesn't want to hear why Stiles flinched. He doubts there's a sane reason.

Derek rushes out of the room that day.

.. / ... . . / - .... . / -.. .- .-. -.- -. . ... ... / .. -. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / . -.-- . ...

One of the nurses hands out schedules on Mondays. Derek can usually count on delivering meals to patients. The other work Derek does is menial labor, like cleaning floors or doing laundry. This is one of the weird weeks, and Derek ended up mopping floors and helping the cafeteria staff. In two days, he'll probably be back to delivering food to patients.

Derek feels uncomfortable around the official staff, but he doesn't mind greeting the patients. He can avoid talking to them, because he has to leave to bring other patients their meals. He used to be mad that Stiles knew he was Derek's last stop and Derek could stick around. Now, it's the one thing he looks forward to. The week-long break has been nice for once, though. Derek hates facing Stiles after one of his slip-ups.

“Excuse me, Herman, but I need to speak with Derek,” someone calls from the doorway.

Derek looks up from washing dishes and raises his eyebrows when he sees it's Ms. Morrell. She's Stiles' counselor, and she's spoken to Derek enough that he recognizes her. Apparently, Stiles mentions Derek in their sessions. Morrell sees it as a good thing. Derek isn't so sure.

“Of course. Take him as long as you need him.”

Ms. Morrell smiles and beckons Derek into the corridor. Derek dries his hands on a dish towel before following. When he reaches her, she isn't smiling anymore. She furrows her brow and presses her lips into a thin line. She walks in front of him, and though Derek can no longer see her expression, he can see it in her shoulders; can hear it in her voice.

“Stiles is missing from his room.”

Derek stumbles. Stiles stays in a high security room. Those rooms are only accessible with an authorized badge, and someone needs to escort the patient any time they leave the room. It wasn't as high security as most people expected, but not being able to leave without an escort was a big change from moving around freely.

“I need to know, Derek, if you have any idea of where he went.”

They barge through a door leading to C Hall, Stiles' hall.

“Home. He misses his dad. And Scott.”

“We already checked,” Morrell says. “No one he knows has seen him. We don't know exactly when he left either; his room wasn't monitored. The police are already looking. No word so far, but a kid wearing a hospital gown should be easy to find.”

“How did he get out?”

They reach Stiles' room and Ms. Morrell pulls out her badge. She fumbles with it, and takes a deep breath before trying to scan it again.

“You'll see.”

And when the door opens, Derek does see. He sees sharp, jagged edges and the bright red bricks of the building next door. He sees what Stiles stared at for hours on end.

Derek sees freedom.

.-. ..- -. -. .. -. --. / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / .-. . .- ... --- -. ... --..-- / .-. ..- -. -. .. -. --. / --- ..- - / --- ..-. / - .. -- .

_Stiles slips through the broken glass carefully. He lands on a piece of glass, but it won't scar much. The dewy grass feels strange and slimy on his feet. As he walks away from the building, he thinks of Derek. It's sad to leave someone he loves, but it's okay._

_Stiles will see him again soon enough._


End file.
